


Purple Skies

by orphan_account



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Slow Dancing, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 10:40:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6150945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Songfic based on Fall Out Boy’s Favourite Record.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Purple Skies

**Author's Note:**

> To get into the mood of this song, listen to: Favourite Record (obviously), Lose Myself by OneRepublic, Summertime by My Chemical Romance, and Long Walk Home by Adam Klassen. No angst, no smut, three pages handwritten, enjoy.

Troye had his feet resting on the dash of Connor’s car, one hand out the open window, letting the cool air ruffle the edge of his sleeve. The skies had long ago given up trying to be blue, so the reddish tinge of the setting sun cast a purple glow to both the sky and the side of Connor’s face. His long lashes were lowered, and Troye was getting worried that his eyes would close.

Connor didn’t miss the looks Troye was giving him. It was therapeutic, really, when it was just the two of them on a gravel road just outside of a small town in the middle of Canada, and neither of them bothered with talking.

“We should have brought a truck,” Connor complained, breaking the silence. It was momentarily shocking, and Troye gave his voice a moment to adjust.

“Wh-why would that be?”

“I’m going to have to wash the dust off the hood of the car.”

“The things we’ll do to get each other in swimsuits,” Troye said, winking and grinning madly at Connor firmly ignoring him.

They were young and infatuated with each other and didn’t bother hiding it. There were no ‘I love you’s exchanged, because the knowledge that Connor loved Troye, and Troye loved Connor, was so common, that why would they waste breath?

The air got thinner the higher they climbed up the hill. At least, that was the excuse that Connor gave himself as he opened his mouth. “I have a confession.”

“Okay,” Troye said distractedly. He was craning his long, bony neck to look at the sunset. “We’ll miss it, Connor; drive faster.”

Connor didn’t dignify that with a response, just pressed the gas pedal a little harder. “Do you think we’ll ever get married?”

“That’s your idea of a confession? That you want to get married? You’re such a hopeless romantic.”

“It’s a bit of a confession,” Connor argued.

“Do we have to get rings though? It’d make my aesthetics awkward.”

“Behold, thy priorities art in order.”

“What did you really expect of—holy fuuuuuuu…”

Connor fought to keep a sly grin off of his face. “This is why we’re here,” he said, slowing the car and putting on the parking brake. He slipped out of the car, which he had probably parked dangerously close to the edge of the cliff. The view below was worth the possibility of losing the car. It was also worth the rest of his phone’s memory being filled with photos.

Troye still hadn’t exited. “Come on,” Connor called as he pulled a blanket and a family size bag of Doritos out of the trunk. “I know the view looks amazing from behind a layer of auto glass, but you’ll have to get out of there eventually.”

“Sure,” Troye replied in a dazed voice. Connor found a spot on the cliff and spread out the blanket, and sat down on the edge. Troye joined him eventually, his huge eyes, reflecting purple like the sky, glazed over with the dizzying heights.

Troye understood that maybe he should at least spare Connor a glance, but that seemed so far out of the realm of necessity that he just let Connor take his hand as they stared at the sky together.

The wind whistled a song that was both familiar and just out of reach as they watched the sun set. “Can I dance with you?” Troye said before he could let his common sense censor his inhibitions. He felt almost drunk, lightheaded, like this moment was the only one that had ever existed and ever would exist.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Connor replied. “What song?”

Then they both said “Do we really need one?” at the exact same time, and it wasn’t flawlessly in sync or in tune, but they scrambled to their feet. Troye hummed a simple waltz-style tune in Connor’s ear, and Connor grinned and let him lead.

“I’ll let you spin me,” Connor said. He felt like if he didn’t offer, Troye wouldn’t ask him to.

“We’re like records,” Troye said softly. “What song are we?”

“Something sad and romantic, probably.”

“We’re like a traditional indie movie trope.”

“I believe the fault for that lies purely in your quiff.”

“Well, whatever song we are, you’re stuck in my head.”

“Me too,” Connor mused. “You know, I can’t think of any song right now.”

Troye grinned and might have replied, except that their ankles caught together and they would have landed in a big heap on the ground, with a few broken and bruised limbs and pride, if they didn’t grab each other’s waists and catch their balance. They sat down on the blanket before any more catastrophes could occur. “Wow, it’s like the universe is just asking us to do the nasty right here and now,” Troye said.

“That would ruin this,” Connor replied. He pointed upwards. The sun had set while they were dancing, and the first few stars were appearing. “Look.”

“The record is sticking,” Troye said as he rested his head gently on Connor’s chest. “This song is playing again.”

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” Connor insisted. “We’ll have to drive back. And you are way to tall for me to carry you to the car.”

Connor didn’t even listen to his own advice. The car was locked already, so he let himself fall asleep with Troye’s reassuring weight draped over him and the music in the earth rising up to kiss them goodnight.

Troye hoped as he felt a light kiss being pressed to his temple that the sun would have the decency to let them sleep in in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to "Favourite Record" so many times on repeat while writing this that I no longer can listen to it without getting hit in the heart with how much I loved writing this.


End file.
